


Translucent

by DeathBelle



Series: Different Kinds of Dysfunctional [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, References to Sex, alcohol use, awkward confessions, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: “I toldja before,” said Atsumu, his voice dipping softer, “you don’t have to say anything.” He took a small step forward, then one more, closing the distance between them. He reached out, waited for a recoil that didn’t come, and carefully claimed a handful of Sakusa’s jacket. “But you do have to ask me out, if you wanna date me. I know I asked you before, but that was a month ago. Doesn’t count anymore.”Sakusa’s nose scrunched. “You just want to make me say it.”Atsumu smiled. “Kinda, yeah.”
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Different Kinds of Dysfunctional [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663360
Comments: 160
Kudos: 1681





	Translucent

Atsumu had been surprised when he and Sakusa had sex three long months ago in a nondescript hotel room. He’d been surprised when Sakusa had later visited his apartment, and agreed to kiss him, and let Atsumu suck his dick. Each of those moments were stars in the sky of Atsumu’s memories, and he was entranced and baffled by each one of them.

But nothing compared to the absolute shock of Sakusa agreeing to get drinks with the team after a hard-won victory. 

The Jackals walked from the stadium to the bar together, most of them loud and boisterous and riding the high of victory-induced adrenaline. 

Sakusa dragged his feet toward the back of the group, hands in his pockets and his face half-hidden by a mask. Atsumu was beside him, choosing to monitor Sakusa for signs of a stroke rather than laugh along with Bokuto’s retelling of the match.

“You don’t have to stay back here with me,” said Sakusa, when they were halfway there and Atsumu had nearly walked into a street sign for the third time. “I know you’re dying to brag to everyone about how well you did today.”

“Aww, you think I played good?” Atsumu kept Sakusa’s pace and continued to stare at him, despite the danger to his physical wellbeing. “That’s sweet, Omi-Omi.”

Sakusa gave him a withering look. 

When Sakusa had first joined the team, that look had cut Atsumu to half his size and made him feel like nothing more than a large lump of festering germs. Maybe it had gotten less sharp, or maybe Atsumu was growing immune, because now there was almost something comforting about it. Atsumu grinned back at him and promptly tripped over an uneven crack in the sidewalk.

Sakusa huffed under his breath, almost silently.

Atsumu thought it might have been a laugh.

They made it to the bar without incident or injury, which in Atsumu’s case was nothing short of a miracle, considering he hadn’t looked away from Sakusa a single time on the walk there. The team stood in a loose cluster in the foyer, waiting for the bar staff to push two tables together to accommodate all of them. Sakusa stood close to the door, at the extreme edge of the group, and Atsumu stood beside him.

“Looks pretty clean in here,” said Atsumu absently. He forced himself to take a cursory look around before letting his attention hone back in on Sakusa. “You gonna let me buy you a drink?”

Sakusa’s frown was obvious even if it was hidden. “Are you flirting with me, Miya?”

“Maybe.” Atsumu grinned and flung out an arm to stop Hinata from stumbling into Sakusa by accident. Hinata blurted an apology and launched himself back toward Bokuto and Inunaki. “Is it workin’?”

Sakusa didn’t answer, but he did let Atsumu buy him a drink.

It was a strange experience, sitting idly by while Sakusa tipped back a vodka martini. Atsumu was at least half sure that he was dead asleep back in their hotel room and he was dreaming the entire thing.

“C’mon, captain, do shots with us!” said Bokuto. He didn’t have much of an indoor voice at the best of times, but when he’d consumed even a single drop of alcohol, it was infinitely worse. He shoved an unidentifiable shot glass toward Meian, who picked it up with a pained expression. 

Hinata bounced in his seat, beaming. He had an extra shot too, and his bright eyes slipped to Sakusa. “Omi-san? Will you do a shot with us?”

“Yeah!” shouted Bokuto. “Do a shot with us!”

Sakusa took another tiny sip of his martini. “No.”

Normally Bokuto would have harassed someone into agreement, but Sakusa seemed to be the exception. Both he and Hinata dropped it and returned their attention to Meian, who coughed as soon as the alcohol hit the back of his throat. Bokuto laughed loudly and slapped him on the shoulder. “Your age is catching up to you, captain!”

“Fuck you,” wheezed Meian. “You’re off the team.”

“You can’t do that!”

Atsumu tuned out the argument and swiveled in his chair. When they’d taken their seats, Sakusa had immediately circumnavigated all of them to claim the chair in the farthest corner, with a wall on two sides of him. Atsumu had followed like they were attached by a string. Sakusa hadn’t complained when Atsumu sat beside him, which meant he didn’t mind.

“So, Omi.” Atsumu picked up his beer. It felt less awkward than sitting there empty-handed. “Guess you do drink sometimes, huh? I always wondered.”

“Then why didn’t you ask?”

“Right,” scoffed Atsumu. “As if you woulda given me a straight answer anyway.”

One corner of Sakusa’s mouth tucked into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you don’t always wanna talk about stuff. When it comes to insultin’ somebody you’re all about it, but if it’s a personal question you’d rather die.”

“That isn’t true.” Sakusa took another drink. 

Atsumu snorted. “Sure.” He took a swig of his beer and placed it back on the table. He was so focused on Sakusa that he hardly tasted it. “Alright then. Who’s your favorite teammate?”

“Hinata.” Sakusa said it without hesitation. “He’s the most versatile and the most reliable.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes, more dramatically than usual. “I mean off the court, Omi-kun. Like as a person, who’s your favorite teammate?”

Sakusa’s frown cut deeper. He glanced around the table: Bokuto was half-hanging off of Meian’s arm, Hinata was tugging at Bokuto’s sleeve to try and pry him away, Inunaki watched the debacle with detached interest, Barnes had slipped away to the bar again, and Tomas’s nose was buried in his phone. Sakusa’s stare settled on Atsumu last, lingered, and he looked away as he reached for his drink again.

Atsumu grinned. He wasn’t even disappointed that Sakusa hadn’t answered. That was answer enough, because if it had been literally anyone other than Atsumu, he would’ve said so. “Exactly what I mean, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa made a noncommittal sound under his breath and took another sip. He was draining his glass more quickly than Atsumu had expected. He probably needed the alcohol to deal with the stress of sitting at this public table with his obnoxious teammates. 

One of the bartenders came by to collect another round of drink orders. To Atsumu’s surprise, Sakusa requested another martini.

Atsumu spent the next ten minutes, until the drinks were delivered, wondering what a drunk Sakusa would be like. When Sakusa had his fresh drink in hand, Atsumu finally asked.

“I’ve only been properly drunk once,” said Sakusa. He twisted his glass around in a full circle, eyeing the edge before raising it to his mouth. “I was coerced into overdrinking at Komori’s birthday a couple of years ago. I don’t remember much of it.”

“So didja like… do stupid shit? Dance on a table, strip down to your underwear in a room fulla people, call your mom to ask if you were adopted?”

Sakusa blinked, slowly. “Please tell me you haven’t done those things.”

“’Course not,” lied Atsumu. “’Samu did. Don’t tell him I said anything, he’ll get embarrassed.”

Sakusa’s eyes narrowed in obvious skepticism. Atsumu kept smiling, and eventually Sakusa looked away. 

Hinata’s voice rose from across the table. “And then Atsumu-san jumped up and-”

They were discussing the match as they always did, as Atsumu should have been doing. He loved recounting all of his best plays, even if everyone at the table had witnessed them firsthand. He laughed along with the others and made a few passing comments, but inevitably returned his attention to Sakusa, who didn’t seem interested in the conversation. 

“Hey, Omi?” said Atsumu after a while, when Sakusa’s second drink was empty and he’d declined a third. “Why’d ya come out with the team tonight? You never have before. Doesn’t seem like your kinda thing.”

Sakusa considered that for so long that it seemed he wouldn’t answer. He pulled the sleeves of his jacket down over his knuckles, stared across the bar, and finally said, “I thought we should spend time together, since we’re dating.”

Atsumu had chosen that unfortunate moment to take a gulp of beer.

He choked, sputtered around the lump in his throat, and struggled to breathe. Someone slapped him on the back – probably Tomas, because he couldn’t imagine Sakusa doing it – and Atsumu wheezed, his throat burning, his entire body too hot. He took a few careful breaths, to make sure he could, and wiped his blurry eyes with the heel of his hand. He had almost just died, and everyone at the table had stopped to stare at him, but he couldn’t think about any of that. He turned on Sakusa and said, hoarsely, “We’re  _ what?” _

Sakusa’s face was perfectly impassive despite dropping that casual atomic bomb, despite Atsumu almost choking to death right in front of him. He said, “Aren’t we?”

Atsumu gaped at him. He didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t remember how to speak at all. 

“Are you alright, Atsumu?” That was Meian from across the table, always the concerned captain. “Here, drink some water.”

Atsumu shook his head without looking away from Sakusa. “Nah. I’m… I’m fine. I’m good. I’m just gonna step outside for a minute. Get some air.” Atsumu stood slowly and pushed his chair under the table. Sakusa’s face was blank but there was a touch of color across his cheeks, so faint that Atsumu wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t spent the last few months memorizing every shift of Sakusa’s expression. “Omi, will ya come with me?”

Sakusa said nothing, but he stood to follow. 

The bar seemed bigger now than it had when they’d arrived. Atsumu dodged the other customers, sidestepped a couple of bartenders carrying trays, and finally shoved through the door to catch a face full of cool nighttime air. Even through his mental daze, he remembered to hold the door open for Sakusa.

Atsumu wandered a few steps away, the opposite direction of the street, and stopped with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He took a few bracing breaths to steady himself before turning back.

Sakusa watched him from a short distance, almost warily. The furrow between his brows hadn’t been there inside the bar. Maybe he’d tried harder to be impassive in front of their teammates. Sakusa reached into his pocket, but before he even pulled out his mask Atsumu said, “Don’t. I wanna see your face.”

Sakusa went still. He let his hand fall to the side and didn’t retreat when Atsumu took a step closer.

“If we’re not dating then just say so.” Sakusa’s voice was flat. “There’s no need to make a scene.”

“You’re the one makin’ a scene, sayin’ it all casual like that.” Atsumu cleared his throat. His face was still warm and he could no longer blame the choking incident. “You can’t drop that on me outta nowhere, Omi. Give a guy some warnin’.”

“As I said, if we’re not-”

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” said Atsumu. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his nerves buzzing beneath his skin. “Date me, I mean. When we talked about it before you said you weren’t sure, and you never brought it up again, so I thought…” The sentence trailed into silence. Atsumu wasn’t sure how to finish it.

“There was no need to bring it up again. I thought I made my intentions clear.”

Atsumu laughed, part humor and part hysteria. “Omi,” he said, breathless. “You never make  _ anything _ clear. You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

Sakusa’s brows slanted more sharply. He turned away and Atsumu reached out to stop him, but snatched his hand back at the last second.

“Omi, wait. I didn’t mean it like… Shit, of course I wanna date you. I’ve always wanted to date you.” Atsumu let his hand flop back down. His fingers tingled with the urge to touch Sakusa. “I just didn’t think you’d ever want the same thing.”

Sakusa went still. His shoulders were high, hands tense where they curled at his sides. Still, his voice was as calm as ever. “You’re the one who asked, Miya.”

“Yeah, but you never agreed.”

Sakusa turned back toward him, half of his face lit by the bar lights, the other half in shadow. “I let you suck my dick last week.”

This conversation would have been hilarious if Atsumu hadn’t been so devastatingly invested in the outcome. “So what? Offerin’ to suck your dick ain’t a marriage proposal. We weren’t datin’ when we fucked, either. They’re two different things.”

“Do you want to date or not?”

“Yes! I already said I do!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Atsumu laughed again. None of this was amusing, but he couldn’t help it. It burst out of him without permission. “Ya never  _ asked _ me, Omi. How was I s’posed to know we were together? How long have you thought we were dating?”

Sakusa frowned. “Three weeks.”

Three weeks.

Atsumu could have been dating Sakusa for  _ three weeks _ .

He wanted to bash his head against the brick wall of the bar, but he settled for pressing his hands over his face and thinking of all the time they’d spent together since then.

Dating. Sakusa had thought they were  _ dating. _ When he’d seen Atsumu in ugly sweatpants and chaotic hair, Sakusa thought they were dating and hadn’t even broken up with him.

After a moment, Sakusa said quietly, “I told you before, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what to say, Atsumu.”

The sound of his name –  _ Atsumu _ , not Miya – twisted something inside Atsumu’s chest. He lowered his hands and found Sakusa staring back, his face more open, almost vulnerable. Atsumu remembered the night they’d spent talking in a shared hotel room, when Sakusa’s walls had crumbled, just a little, just enough to let Atsumu see a hint of the light shining through from the other side. 

Sakusa hadn’t known what he’d wanted then. Atsumu thought maybe Sakusa had been a little afraid, afraid in the same way Atsumu was. 

“I toldja before,” said Atsumu, his voice dipping softer, “you don’t have to say anything.” He took a small step forward, then one more, closing the distance between them. He reached out, waited for a recoil that didn’t come, and carefully claimed a handful of Sakusa’s jacket. It grounded him as he stared up at Sakusa, as he tried to see the thoughts churning behind shadow-dark eyes. “But you do have to ask me out, if you wanna date me. I know I asked you before, but that was a month ago. Doesn’t count anymore.”

Sakusa’s nose scrunched. “You just want to make me say it.”

Atsumu smiled. “Kinda, yeah.”

Sakusa shook his head, and Atsumu half-expected him to pull away. But he stayed there, planted firmly in front of Atsumu, not balking as he said, “Will you date me?”

“Omi-kun, I thought you’d never ask. I’ll have to think about it for a while, don’t wanna make any rash decisions and – Wait, hang on, I’m jokin’!” Atsumu yanked Sakusa back by his jacket, grinning so hard he didn’t know if he would ever stop. “Yeah, ‘course I’ll date ya. Startin’ today, not three weeks ago. Remember that, I’ll expect an anniversary present if you don’t dump me by next year.”

“I’m already thinking about it and it hasn’t even been five minutes.”

“Baby steps, then.” Atsumu grinned impossibly wider. “Let’s shoot for a month and see what happens.”

Sakusa hummed. He raised a hand, hesitated, and grazed a fingertip along Atsumu’s jaw. “Fine. I’ll buy you dinner if it lasts for a month. Good enough?”

“You’re s’posed to buy me dinner anyway. I’m your boyfriend.”

Sakusa blinked as if he was surprised by that, as if he hadn’t quite realized that dating and having a boyfriend were the same thing. “Then that means you’re obligated to buy me dinner, too.”

“’Course I am. We’ll take turns. That’s only fair.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

The moment dragged as they stared at each other, both unmoving, Atsumu’s grip curling tighter in Sakusa’s jacket. 

“So,” said Atsumu, his voice low. “You gonna kiss me or what?”

Sakusa’s face scrunched. It wasn’t a positive response, but Atsumu didn’t think kissing was the problem, not exactly.

“You’ve been sittin’ in a public bar for almost two hours.” Atsumu’s smile went softer. “One kiss won’t hurt ya. We both know you’re gonna scrub yourself raw when we get back to the hotel anyway.”

Sakusa exhaled. He put his hands in his pockets and leaned in, then hesitated long enough that Atsumu pulled back to look at him. But Sakusa moved closer and left a quick, dry kiss on Atsumu’s mouth. Objectively it was minimal contact, barely more than a friendly gesture, not even close to romantic. But it was enough to have Atsumu’s face warming again, his heartbeat kicking weakly in his chest.

“Let’s go back inside,” said Sakusa, as he stepped away. “It’s getting cold.”

“Nah, let’s just head back to the hotel.” Atsumu fumbled for the zipper of his own jacket and yanked it up to his chest. “It’s been a long day. I’m pretty tired.”

“You can stay, Miya. Don’t leave because of me. I’m not asking you to.”

Miya again. Maybe the single  _ Atsumu _ had been a one time thing. But that was fine; Atsumu had gotten much more than he’d expected that night, more than he could have asked for. 

“I’m not! I said I’m tired. I’m gettin’ too old to keep up with Bokkun anymore. You remember which way the hotel is? I wasn’t payin’ attention on the way over.”

Sakusa clearly didn’t believe him, but he didn’t say it. He also didn’t point out that Bokuto was older than either of them, which made that an invalid excuse. He simply nodded toward the sidewalk and they went together, Atsumu ambling along wherever Sakusa led him. 

Sakusa’s hands were in his pockets, and even if they hadn’t been, Atsumu wouldn’t have reached out for one. He’d been careful of Sakusa’s boundaries in the past, and the new label of  _ boyfriend _ wouldn’t change that. 

But he did catch the edge of Sakusa’s sleeve and held onto it as they moved through a crosswalk, and since Sakusa didn’t seem to mind, Atsumu didn’t release it when they reached the other side.

“I wiped down the shower,” announced Atsumu when he emerged from the bathroom a while later. He held a towel around his hips as he stepped into his boxer briefs, keeping himself covered more for Sakusa’s comfort than his own. 

“You always wipe it down,” said Sakusa, not looking away from his phone. He was already bundled up in bed against a stack of pillows. By rule, he always took the first shower. “There’s no need to tell me every time.”

“Well maybe I’m lookin’ for some gratitude, Omi.”

Sakusa glanced at him, unimpressed. “Thank you for doing the bare minimum to be a decent human being.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Sakusa rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his phone. Atsumu wondered what he was doing. Usually Sakusa brought a book with him for late night entertainment. 

Atsumu returned to the bathroom to drape the towel over top of the shower rail, right beside Sakusa’s. If he’d been alone he would’ve left it on the floor. When he stepped back into their shared room he peeled down his sheets, adjusted the pillows, and hesitated.

Sakusa still wasn’t looking at him. Atsumu tried to peer at Sakusa’s phone screen but couldn’t see from that angle. Slowly, he plucked up a pillow and circled the foot of his bed to approach Sakusa’s. He eased a knee onto the edge, waited for a reaction that didn’t come, and climbed onto it completely. He folded his pillow and wedged it beneath his head as he stretched out on his side, stare stuck to Sakusa, who spared him only a brief glance before looking at his phone again.

“What are you doing?”

“Your bed looks comfier than mine,” said Atsumu. “D’you mind?”

“Yes, I mind,” said Sakusa, but he didn’t mean it. Atsumu knew by the tone of his voice, the relaxed planes of his face. He could read Sakusa well by now. He could read his  _ boyfriend _ well.

“Hmm.” Atsumu didn’t move. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Why do you care?”

“You look real focused. Is it porn? Can I watch too?”

Sakusa’s lip curled. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m jokin’,” said Atsumu, grinning. He shifted, prepared to burrow into Sakusa’s sheets, but stopped himself. Lying on top of Sakusa’s bed and getting into it were two different things. He thought he would get kicked out if he tried. “But c’mon, share with me. I’m your boyfriend, remember?”

Sakusa grimaced, but it seemed forced. He tilted his phone to the side and Atsumu pushed himself up on an elbow, eager to see.

It was a screen full of words. Sakusa was reading a book without the book.

“Oh.” Atsumu collapsed back down, then pushed himself up again to readjust his pillow. “Thought it was somethin’ exciting.”

“Sorry my interests are so boring to you, Miya.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. ‘Course I’m interested. Tell me what it’s about.” 

Sakusa tapped his thumb at the edge of the screen. “You don’t care.”

“Maybe not about the book exactly,” said Atsumu, “but I care about what you like. And I like hearin’ you talk. C’mon, tell me.”

Sakusa considered him. Atsumu grinned, blinking when a strand of messy hair fell into his eyes. Sakusa raised a hand, as if he would smooth the hair away from Atsumu’s face, as if he would linger at his forehead and his temple and maybe even cup his jaw. 

But Sakusa withdrew his hand before it even got close, tucked it safely into his lap, and talked about his story.

Atsumu tossed the hair out of his face and watched Sakusa’s profile as he listened. There was something about a castle and a king, something about a war and disease and mass death. Something about a hero, and an important fight, and a girl he almost died for.

It may have been the most words Sakusa had ever said at once; certainly when he was with Atsumu. 

Atsumu’s eyes drifted closed, but he stayed focused. Not on the words necessarily – he doubted he would remember any details of this story by tomorrow – but on Sakusa’s voice. He spoke slowly, his tone low and smooth like a lullaby. Atsumu wished he could record it, to play again later.

Sakusa paused. The room was quiet except for the thrum of the heating unit. 

“You fell asleep.”

Atsumu cracked open one eyelid. “Did not. I’m still listenin’.”

“Well I’m finished talking.” The bedsprings squeaked as Sakusa leaned over to plug in his phone and place it neatly at the corner of the end table. “Go to bed.”

“I’m in bed.”

“Go to your own bed.”

“Yours is comfier.”

“They’re literally identical, Miya.”

Atsumu shrugged one shoulder. He curled his legs closer to himself, again resisting the urge to plunge them into the warmth of the sheets. He kept an eye on Sakusa, waiting for the sharpened expression that meant he was irritated. 

Sakusa studied him, but not sharply. His eyelids were a little heavy. 

“You look tired, Omi,” said Atsumu with a slight smile. “You should go to sleep.”

“How can I sleep when there’s a creature in my bed?”

“It won’t bother ya.”

Sakusa frowned at him.

“If anything, I’d be doin’ you a favor,” said Atsumu. He propped himself up on an elbow to grin at Sakusa. “It’s kinda chilly tonight, but I’m real warm. I’ll keep you nice and toasty.”

He was only teasing. Of course he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping in Sakusa’s bed tonight, but he liked making Sakusa’s face twist into that sour expression. 

Atsumu laughed and pushed himself into a sitting position. He rubbed his hands against his cold thighs, which would have been warm as advertised if he hadn’t been lying on top of the blankets in a cold hotel room. 

“I’m just playin’, Omi. I hope you brought some extra blankets like usual though, it’s s’posed to get pretty cold tonight.” He draped one leg off the edge of the bed. “Want me to grab them for you? They’re in that suitcase, right? The gray one.” 

Before Atsumu could reach for it, Sakusa said, “Miya.”

“Okay, okay. Just tryin’ to help.” He glanced back at Sakusa, but he didn’t seem annoyed, as expected. The little crease had returned to his brow, the one that meant he was thinking hard about something. His hands were curled into the sheets pooled at his waist. He wore a long-sleeved shirt as usual, and although Atsumu couldn’t see, he knew Sakusa wore sweatpants, too. He always did.

Sakusa’s brows pinched together. “If you touch me in my sleep I’ll kick you off of the bed, and not entirely on purpose. I’ll do it without thinking, and it will hurt.”

“Okay.” Atsumu agreed without realizing what Sakusa meant. It took him a few seconds too long, and when he did, he suddenly wasn’t tired anymore. “Oh.  _ Oh _ . I won’t touch ya, Omi. Not even in my sleep. I used to thrash around when I was a kid but I don’t anymore. I think that was only ‘cause me and ‘Samu shared a bed for a while and I was always subconsciously tryin’ to kick him.” He closed his mouth to cut off his own rambling, counted to five, and added, “But… seriously?”

“Stand up.”

Atsumu did. The hotel carpet was a rough texture under his bare feet as Sakusa threw back the sheets, making room for Atsumu to slip in.

Atsumu stared at the empty space, blinked, and stared at Sakusa instead. “You know I was kiddin’, right? I didn’t really expect you to…” He gestured at the bed.

“So you don’t want to?”

“Of course I do Omi, you know I do, it’s just…” Atsumu fidgeted in place. The heating unit still hummed, but it didn’t seem to be doing much. Atsumu’s bare limbs were like ice. He should have been dressed more like Sakusa instead of stripped down to his underwear, but he didn’t sleep well in clothes. They were constricting. “Are you only offering ‘cause we’re datin’ now?”

“Miya-”

“Nothin’ has to change, you know,” said Atsumu. He had to get all the words out. He needed Sakusa to understand. “Just ‘cause of that, I mean. I’m happy with the way things are now. I don’t want you to feel obligated, or… or think I’m thinking that we… Wait.” Atsumu shook his head and started again. “I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable just ‘cause we’re datin’ and you think you should. It’s not gonna be like that, doesn’t matter if-”

“Miya, please shut up.”

Atsumu did. Only because he said please.

Although Atsumu was quietly aware that he would do almost anything Sakusa asked him to at any given time, regardless of how much he may have pretended otherwise.

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. Whether we’re dating or not doesn’t change that.” Sakusa shifted the slightest bit away from him, as if making more room. “Get in.” 

Atsumu almost teased him for that –  _ say please, Omi-kun, and maybe I’ll think about it _ – but he was afraid Sakusa would retract the offer. He climbed back onto Sakusa’s bed, this time between the sheets instead of on top of them. Sakusa threw them over him, and as the blankets settled across his chest, Atsumu immediately felt warmer.

Or maybe that was just knowing he was in bed with Sakusa. Literally  _ in bed _ with him.

Atsumu laid on his side facing Sakusa. Sakusa reached over to turn off the lamp, and when Atsumu’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized Sakusa mirrored him.

The bed wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t tiny, either. There was enough room for them to lie near their respective edges and still have a body of space between them.

But they were close enough that Atsumu felt Sakusa’s body heat on the sheets. If Atsumu reached out, even a little, they would be touching.

Atsumu took a deep breath and held it. When he exhaled it was controlled, because he was afraid of Sakusa feeling his breath and getting disgusted.

“If you change your mind,” said Atsumu, shifting into a whisper to match the darkness, “just tell me. I’ll move.”

“Like you said,” murmured Sakusa, “it’s supposed to be cold tonight. I don’t like the cold.”

“Good thing you’ve got a hot boyfriend, then.”

It was too dark to see Sakusa’s face, but his expression was easy to guess. Atsumu laughed and resolutely resisted the urge to reach across the small distance that felt like miles.

A minute ticked by. Atsumu burrowed further into the sheets and yanked them up over his shoulders. This really was more comfortable than his own bed would have been, but not because of the bed itself. “Hey, Omi?”

“Hmm.”

“Hold my hand. I know yours is cold. It’s always cold.”

“You’ve rarely ever touched my hands.”

“Yeah, but every time I have, they’ve been cold.”

There was a pause. Atsumu thought Sakusa would let the conversation go, and that was fine. Atsumu had already gotten more than he could have hoped for.

But there was a rustle from Sakusa’s side of the bed, as if he was reaching out. Atsumu extended a hand, just barely.

Sakusa reached past it and pushed a freezing hand against Atsumu’s stomach.

“What the  _ hell _ , Omi!” Atsumu’s voice pitched so high it was nearly a shriek. He flinched back, nearly rolled off the bed, and only saved himself by grappling onto the sheets with fingers hooked liked claws.

Sakusa mercifully took his hand back, and as Atsumu tried to rub warmth into his stomach before it became hypothermic, Sakusa huffed under his breath. It was the same as earlier, when Atsumu had tripped and suspected Sakusa was laughing at him.

He no longer suspected. He  _ knew _ Sakusa was laughing, no matter how discreet it was.

“You’re a jerk, Omi,” said Atsumu, although he was grinning so hard it didn’t sound like an insult.

“You’re the one who offered to warm my hands.”

“With  _ my _ hands! Here, gimme.”

Sakusa felt around in the dark. The side of his hand grazed Atsumu’s, and after a slight hesitation, he folded their fingers together. Atsumu squeezed gently.

“Human hands shouldn’t be this cold,” said Atsumu. 

“Poor circulation is common with hypermobility.” Sakusa said it as if he was reading out of a textbook.

“Oh.” Atsumu rubbed his thumb back and forth over Sakusa’s hand, and when Sakusa didn’t flinch, he kept doing it. “Thought it was just ‘cause of your ice cold heart.”

“That might also be a factor.”

Atsumu snorted. “You’re kinda funny, Omi. I never knew.”

“That’s because I’ve been avoiding you since high school.”

“You’re doin’ a shitty job.” 

“I stopped trying.”

“Why?” asked Atsumu. Sakusa’s hand was beginning to warm. “Finally couldn’t resist? There’s no shame Omi, I could win anybody over.”

Sakusa didn’t answer, and Atsumu wasn’t particularly surprised.

“Gimme your other hand,” said Atsumu. 

Sakusa shifted, and Atsumu braced himself in case Sakusa went for his torso again. But Sakusa’s cold fingers slipped neatly into his own, and Atsumu rubbed some warmth into them.

“I didn’t think you would ever like me,” said Sakusa after a moment, his voice low. “I stayed away from you so I wouldn’t embarrass myself.”

Atsumu’s hand went still. All of him went still. When he exhaled it burned a little, as if he’d been holding his breath and hadn’t noticed.

“What’s that mean?” whispered Atsumu. 

“It means what I said.”

“I don’t understand. Wait.” He squeezed Sakusa’s hand when he tried to pull it back. “You… did you like me in high school?”

Sakusa didn’t respond, and that was an answer.

“But when you joined the Jackals you acted like bein’ on the same team as me was awful. You barely even talked to me.”

“Keep in mind you’re annoying,” said Sakusa. Since he’d let Atsumu into his bed, that insult no longer stung.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” asked Atsumu.

“I already said.” Sakusa shifted, but didn’t pull his hand away from Atsumu’s. “I don’t enjoy embarrassing myself. I thought you would make a joke of it.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Omi.”

“I know that now. I didn’t then.”

Atsumu slipped his other hand through the sheets and held Sakusa’s fingers between both of his palms. “Why’d you have sex with me then? If you were always tryin’ to avoid me.”

Sakusa sighed. Atsumu wished the lamp was on so he could see Sakusa’s face.

“You made that stupid comment,” said Sakusa. “You said you’d thought about us together. You were probably just trying to annoy me. I knew that even when you said it. But… I thought if you weren’t, maybe one time couldn’t hurt.”

Atsumu vaguely remembered that conversation. He’d certainly been annoying Sakusa on purpose, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been serious, too.

“I was teasin’ you about lettin’ me into your bed.” Atsumu grinned and traced the tip of his finger along the back of Sakusa’s hand, up to his wrist. “Look how far we’ve come.”

“You’re right. This is ridiculous. Get out before I push you out.”

Atsumu laughed. That wasn’t much of a threat considering Sakusa was still holding his hand. “That night I was tryin’ to annoy you, Omi-kun. It wasn’t a lie, though. I’d thought about it, more than once.” Atsumu remembered their high school days: facing Sakusa down across a net, chanting “Omi-kun” in the most obnoxious possible way every time Sakusa was close enough to hear, bruising his knees and elbows because he was so desperate to receive one of Sakusa’s impossible serves. “I had a wet dream about ya, after one of our matches during third year. I didn’t notice you were hot until then, but after that I  _ really _ noticed.”

Atsumu had promised himself never to admit that to anyone, especially not Sakusa, but it felt okay to say it now. They’d passed the point of embarrassment over stupid things like that.

He’d thought so, anyway.

“That’s embarrassing,” said Sakusa flatly. “And kind of gross.”

“Omi-kun! It’s a compliment if anything. You’re welcome.”

Sakusa seemed to think on that for a moment. “You only thought I was attractive. You didn’t actually like me.”

Atsumu’s impulse was to lie, but he hadn’t lied to Sakusa in a long time - not over anything important, anyway - and he didn’t want to start again now. “Back then, yeah. Even when you joined the Jackals I thought you were a huge dick who was annoyingly sexy. You’re still kind of a dick, but… I like you. Not just ‘cause you’re hot. You grew on me, bad attitude and all.”

“Because I fucked you.”

“Nah, before that. If I hadn’t liked you at least a little bit I wouldn’t’ve gone through with it.” Atsumu toyed with Sakusa’s fingers, felt the blunt edges of his nails and the shapes of his knuckles. “I didn’t think it meant anything to you, but… it meant somethin’ to me.”

Sakusa didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. It had meant something to him, too. Atsumu hadn’t known at the time. He hadn’t known until five minutes ago. But now that he did, he liked Sakusa impossibly more.

Sakusa pulled his hand back, and Atsumu reluctantly let go. “Roll over,” said Sakusa. “I can’t sleep with you looking at me.”

“Omi, it’s so dark in here I literally can’t see you.”

“It doesn’t matter. Roll over.”

Atsumu huffed as if incredibly inconvenienced, but he flopped onto his other side. He imagined what it would feel like with Sakusa’s heat against his back, curled up against him. It would be nice, more than nice, but Atsumu didn’t need it. He was satisfied. He was happy.

A fingertip touched Atsumu’s side and spread into a palmprint at his waist. Sakusa’s hand was warm with the heat he’d borrowed from Atsumu. He eased closer until his forearm settled into the dip of Atsumu’s waist, the weight of it comforting. It was the only point of contact between them, but it was perfect.

“G’night, Omi-kun.” He hoped Sakusa heard the smile in his voice.

“Goodnight, Atsumu.” Sakusa said it in his usual tone. There was nothing soft about it, nothing romantic.

But he’d used Atsumu’s given name, and that was plenty.

When Atsumu woke up the next morning to the blare of their alarm, Sakusa had rolled as far away from him as physically possible and was curled into a reclusive ball. 

But Atsumu was still in his bed, and that was what mattered.

They rose slowly, and got dressed ever slower. It was cold as predicted, despite the puffs of weak heat coming through the vents. Atsumu dressed in layers, and Sakusa doubled him, and they collected their luggage to trudge down to the ground floor.

Meian was there waiting, as usual, but their other teammates weren’t. They must have had a late night at the bar. Atsumu was glad he’d left when he did; not because he’d avoided a hangover, but because he’d had a much better night with Sakusa than he’d ever had at a bar.

When the last of them arrived – Bokuto, whose eyes were still mostly closed and who hadn’t bothered doing anything about his flat hair – they left the safety of the hotel lobby to brave the chill beyond. It was cold enough to steal Atsumu’s breath, and he pulled the collar of his jacket higher against his jaw. 

The bus wasn’t warmed up. They stored their luggage and climbed on, and although it was a relief to be out of the wind, it was still freezing. It would take at least twenty minutes on the road for the heat to start working.

As always, Sakusa slipped around their teammates and headed to the back row. He liked to sit in the corner furthest from everyone else, with his headphones on so he could ignore any attempts at conversation. 

Atsumu typically sat with Hinata, because he was the most entertaining on long drives. Sometimes he chose Bokuto, but Bokuto was often too much for even Atsumu, although he was so tired that he would have been fine that day. 

But Atsumu bypassed everyone to follow Sakusa.

“Can I sit with you?” asked Atsumu, as Sakusa settled into his corner seat.

Sakusa shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to sink further into his coat. “You don’t have to.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes and plopped into the seat beside Sakusa. “Gonna be a long ride. Hopefully it’s warmer back home.”

Sakusa hummed in agreement, but said nothing else.

Further up on the bus the others filtered into their seats, more quietly than usual. Hinata looked back at them, surprisingly bright-eyed considering he was probably at the bar as long as everyone else, but was distracted by something Inunaki said. 

“Gimme your hand,” said Atsumu, as the bus rumbled to life beneath them.

“Why?”

Atsumu offered his hand, palm-up, fingers spread. “Just do it.”

Sakusa extracted his hand from his pocket, hovered shaking fingers over Atsumu’s for a few dragging seconds, and finally took it. Atsumu fitted their fingers together and tucked their joined hands into his own jacket pocket. It was immediately toasty.

“If your hand gets clammy I’m done,” said Sakusa.

Atsumu snorted. “Fine. Ungrateful.”

Sakusa squeezed Atsumu’s hand, just once, just briefly.

Atsumu’s face was numb from the cold, but he smiled anyway. Sakusa’s face didn’t change, but that didn’t matter. Atsumu thought, in his own way, Sakusa was smiling too.


End file.
